


Fishing For Trouble

by Atma



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Puns, F/F, Fishing Humor, Futanari, Herring Roleplay, Sandwiches, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3281420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atma/pseuds/Atma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ymir sneaks off during a fishing expedition to enjoy herself when a certain blonde catches her being lewd and makes her pay for teasing poor Sasha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fishing For Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> A request for an anon (they wanted futa on futa anal and I could pick the theme) I started a while ago and only now had time to finish - thank you infinitely for your patience! I hope you enjoy how silly this is.

Fishing is known to be an extremely popular sport in the summer, even in the small rivers that somehow still flowed through the valleys and towns between the walls that kept humanity enclosed. Mostly because almost anyone of any social status or rank could agree to a nap with a shady cap over their eyes as they lay back in the boat and let their six pack of cheap beer cool in the flowing rapids beside them, excusing it as sport in the most broad of senses. Hey, you can sometimes maybe lose calories by reeling in something big (if you're lucky) and the sun makes you sweat, so clearly hard work was being had and nobody could call you lazy for bringing back more than a pound of squirrel to your wagon.

Well, they could. And they would be right. A simple salmon or trout could feed one soldier, perhaps two if you were lucky, but if that was all you returned home with then forget it. You lazyass.

Which is exactly why Ymir sought the biggest game in town. She completely forgot the meaning of this food-gathering expedition, having found a chunk of meat meant to be fried for lunches or dinners in the supply wagon, fashioned a big and thick slice of it with her sword oh so carefully, and hooked it around the bone to the hook of her fishing line. Nobody would miss a simple ham steak when the whole encampment they were in reeked of a fish hatchery. Everyone else was too busy making filets and farming any roe they were lucky enough to find into dinners to notice any small stealing of rations. Around the meat she placed a thick roll of bread, softened in her beer, and let it dangle off the side of the port roof they were on, seeing if anyone or anything more turf based would bite.

Ymir hated most seafood anyways, at least since the incident in the pub a few years ago where she ate a bad batch of rollmops with her ale and all she could taste for days afterward was the violent upchucking of it burning the back of her throat.

The freckled wonder and herring had been sworn enemies ever since, let alone all of seafood. How could she trust even the meatiest basket of fish and chips after that traitor? It pained her to do so, but even just one bite brought back painful, belchy memories and she'd have to excuse herself to the furthest corner with the strongest beer to forget about it.

So landmeats it was, and she took a particular thrill in hunting the second most dangerous creature on this planet: the wild Sasha. Her hunger and desire to eat meant endless taunting from Ymir, having played this game with her countless times, choosing to waste everyone's time on this instead of working to benefit the whole, as she was wont to do with most things in the military. She had already caught a rather nice prize this morning as the sun broke golden over the fog on the river, which she now wore upon her skull as a crown, like a king amongst dirt. It was Reiner's bucket hat, complete with all the fancy and strong lures he and Bert had made up for this mission, snickering to herself as it flopped over her eyes, a few sizes too large but serving its purpose at shielding her perfect face freckles from harm and sunburn.

She knew that fishing was mostly a game of patience. Visions of boats full of her squadmates afar on the wide river between the port and the forests on the other side dotted her vision, seeing hardly a movement from any of the vessels or vassals on them in hours, flopping back onto a cot she stole from the same area she found her meatbait in, pulling up a cold, cheap beer and chugging it as she dangled her fishing line lazily below her, targeting the area that was just head height for most people, humming a few burlesque tunes to herself off key as she pretended to work, the backup dancers and hornplayers and accordions playing alongside her in her head.

The yield she was expecting wasn't much; moreso she guessed a few hungry blue-collar workers would make their way by and jump for the meat, which she would yank out of their sight as she laughed and danced half-drunk above. Still beat sitting around in a river stewing in your own sweat, pickled in the mist that raised off the water early in the morning, after a long day of boredom and not sleeping, surrounded by fish bonier than your own dick. Ymir had heard rumors many a year now of fishermen lonely enough to take an unsuspecting salmon and treating it as they would their haggard port wives back home, but even she wasn't so desperate as to have a filet o' fuck, complete with her own homemade tartar sauce, no matter how long or hard or boring this work was. Her mind wasn't that dull yet. Granted, being half asleep had also put her crotch at half mast, but there was no reason to jerk off and expend her hunting energy just yet, was there?

But fuck, it was tempting, after thinking about how bony fish were, how bonery she was getting on her own, and the lack of any good catches, let alone any strong shipmaids or local tavern wenches desperate to please her in any way for a tip (be it coin or what was at the end of her own lucky fishing rod) or hell, she'd settle for Sasha about now and....

...Well, shit. Ymir wasn't the religious type, far from it, but she had to figure something heard her then since her line suddenly tugged hard and she looked down, other hand holding her big cap to her head as she gauged her catch, grinning wide and toothy as she saw Sasha's mouth clamped hard on the sandwich bait she left out who knows how long ago. If only she had something like a bit of mustard or cocktail sauce, but as she watched Sasha eagerly dance and become increasingly determined from her line teasing to get that lunch, her own cock bulged forth in her pants. Perhaps she'd get that sauce after all, creamy and white, pickling her catch and storing it for later. Ymir was no stranger to waking up with random boners by now, not since she drank Hanji's potion a while ago, but it all seemed to fit in so well with this she could not care less that you could probably spot her tackle box poking out of her pants from the other horizon by now. Perhaps this is what all the old legends of fishermen speaking of mermaids and fishfucking was based on was just an elaborate retelling of some cute girl by the bay. Or maybe they actually did fuck a fish. She didn't know nor did she care beyond getting hers, and she let her fishing rod steady and strong in her right hand as she put her left hand down her pants to control the other rod at hand, stroking herself slow and strong as she delighted in the show before her.

Fuck, how cute was she, nomming slowly on that steak she carved out, able to look down her top from here as she drooled and pinched at her own balls, huffing in a happy daydream where she's the fisherman and Sasha was her perfect and hungry, yet cute and oblivious little fishwife. Of course, in this world of fantasy, Ymir often saw the other village girls from around the rivers and oceans pinned up aganst the walls and trees and treated to both her tongue and cock masterfully so, pushing into them and ensuring their future progeny, not caring if anyone found their little village of women only weird in how they kept propegating. And she was the best hunter, the best fisher, the best swordsman, and had defeated ten thousand armies, and all the girls had huge racks they wanted to offer her as thanks, and and and...

...with one very distorted looking face and bitten lower lip later...

...Shit. She came far too early. A decent showing of her own cum sprayed, a thick and white salty spray, as if she hadn't been able to treat herself in days, on her hands and down her pants as her face and freckles flushed, biting her lower lip hard to silence and stifle any screams or groanings, eyes wide as she mangled her balls in her hand and tried to drain herself, allowing her prey to get away with the bait and leave her watery hunt unsatisfied.

No, seriously, Sasha had taken the sandwich at the end and plucked it off the hook with an amazing hunger and dexterity to her fingers and shoved it in her mouth and ran off like an alleycat just scoring a load off the local docks. There was a very strong chance she had no idea what Ymir was doing, or if she was there, but free lunch is free lunch and she helped the freckled fisherman up above feel just that extra twinge of humiliation as she gripped her cap and put it over her face, mumbling a stream of swears both unintelligible and creative. Who knew you could call someone a 'shit-raptor' and mean it in earnest rage?

As she stood on that roof and roared in both a sexual and digestive frustration, neither of her appetites really satisfied, wrist flicking some of her own salty brine off onto the road, a shadow slowly crept over her. It wasn't past noon yet, was it? Last she checked her watch, it was late morning. Was her mind wandering and half-asleep and half-horny a sign she had overstayed her welcome? It was most likely just a tree, after all. She pulled her line up and turned around ready to return to the group she left behind when...

...Well, that tree sure looked a lot like Historia did. Small, lean, strong, blonde, sharp judgmental eyes, a cap similar to the one she had on. Well, it was. If the one Ymir stole was Reiner's, then this one probably belonged to Eren. Since, well, how angry all the lures on it gave it away. So this tree wasn't a tree at all and was Historia herself, meaning the day of Ymir's was about to be cut short and her fun ruined, if only because she knew trees can't wear angry hats and if this one had one on, it only meant one thing.

She got fucking caught.

"Well, you're no tree. How long have you been fucking standing there and staring?" Ymir blurted out, her freckles flush. Her rod, the fishing one, not the other kind you pervert, flailed in her hand as she tried to assert herself. 

"Since this started. What, you didn't think I'd follow you when I knew you were up to no good?" Historia responded, arms cross. She had no fishing rod, but carried with her a few interesting pouches on her belt, filled with things as decorated and pointy as lures, but most certainly crafted for a different kind of game.

Ymir's eyes didn't flinch from them, overacting and shrugging as she faked a wide, shit eating smile. "I'm as innocent as pure driven snow. Say, those are some interesting, ah, lures you got. Hunting for girls like I am, mayhaps? We could team up with those toys of yours and..."

"Behind the pub and around the tree, bend over. I'll be there in five minutes." with that, Historia barged off, a sharp look akin to a hunter's gaze on her. 

"Shit." Ymir mumbled as she walked off and followed soon after cleaning up. She knew what was coming. If it was anything akin to Ymir's boredom, surely Historia too had just came to look for a place to cum too and relieve herself from how much tedium gave them hardons. It wasn't uncommon for people to take abnormally long bathroom breaks over this, especially when tired minds wander to softer tits to soothe them, so everyone just kind of had this quiet understanding and let them go and tend to things when needed. But Ymir herself was only half satisfied and it meant that whatever Historia wanted from her, for relief, was about to be a whole lot rougher for not being honest.

Her ass was in trouble, and she knew it in more ways than one. Her balls cinched up near her ass and tightened in impatience. She'd have to be discreet getting down and past the cheap pub in order not to frighten local fish-cleaning wenches with her visible fishing rod poking from her pants.

Now that one did flail around and wenches were traumatized. She'd wave and claim innocence but they'd just chase her off further down the road, threatening to lock a fresh salmon on it and see how she liked that flailing on her the same way it flailed at their massive cleavage. Oh gods, it was worth it, though, that strong dock girl look got the freckled one every time. Forget threats of slimy fishy bestiality, if she could get within even ten feet of tits like that it made her cock all too happy and worth it.

Oh yeah, Historia. She finally circled her way around, only to find herself ten minutes late, a minute for every set of tits she stopped to gawk at.

The exchange Historia wanted for her impatience and misbehavior most likely was not about to be as worth it, though.

Once Ymir showed up behind that tree, the two exchanged glances. Ymir couldn't even really make anything up at this point as to why she was late; after all most of the port probably heard the girls yell at her exuberantly by now. She just greeted her girl by dropping her pants and showing off her half erection, still salty and sticky and rolled back from earlier, sighing as her balls throbbed again. 

"Do what you want, I'm in no state to fight back, clearly." Ymir sighed, propping herself up against the tree trunk and showing her round, toned ass to her girl, offering herself like some kind of wolf would almost, snarling and snorting a bit as she felt herself leak and hide her face in her forearm. 

Historia was all too glad her game just walked up to her. "I'd thought of going easy on you, but you did dawdle, and the whole port and riverside know why now. If you take this easy, I'll be quiet about the salmon incident I overheard."

With that said, Historia pulled out a long, strong, thick rubber and covered Ymir's cock from her head to her shaft and balls and snapped it on with an extra sharp thwap, making the poor freckled one wince a bit as her cock throbbed and leaked in it, feeling it hot and tingling inside of it as her whole body flinched and flushed under her robes. She left out only a whimper as she tried to fight the urge to snark back, biting her lip as she took a few long, deep breaths and felt her girl's soft, pale hands rub up against her tan hips and balls, pinching them and teasing her.

Slowly more, Historia pulled out a few lure-shaped pinchers, attaching one to each of Ymir's fat, freckled balls, making them twitch and load up fast, watching Ymir as she howled and bit her sleeve to kill the noise, eyes shut as she flailed and shook below her, submitting to a hand sliding up her sides of her ribs and up to her small tits, where she was pinched further with more clasps on her nipples, them beging tugged on as she felt Historia's front side line up with her back and push against her, placing her teeth deep in her neck.

"Oh good, you flail well, just as I wanted~" Historia teased, unzipping her pants and revealing her own massive fishing rod, half mast and leaking, already pushing hard and quick against Ymir's asshole, pinching against it and pushing, making Ymir eke up the tree trunk inch by inch and roar as she leaked further in her sleeve, her whole body squirming and shaking and flailing in a way to try to keep them quiet. "You look just like a succulent, salty herring right now."

"W-what...how..." Ymir mumbled, her brain half gone on the tension now loaded between her hips, her hormones warming all of her as she flopped in her tiny, pale girl's arms, feeling her hands busy between her tits and balls, tugging on her lures and pinchers to get her as tense and warm and loaded as possible without cumming, making her squirm hard and exhale through her nose, nostrils flared, gasping sharp but quiet as she tried to keep still and fight that awful, disgusting comparison. How dare she call her the one thing she hated most? So pickled, so salty, so disgusting. Who cared if this is how someone would also perfectly descrbe her as a person, at least she never gave anyone food poisoning.

At least, not to her knowledge. But the image of those old rollmops and canned, sodium-laced strips of fish reeled through her mind as she felt Historia's cockhead push into her and begin to hook her and reel her in as she was doing to Sasha almost just moments earlier. Ymir left out a sharp, small yelp as it made its way in, both her hips flailing to accomodate it like a big catch would and trying to get free once she felt how large it was, as if she nipped that hook too soon.

But seriously, when did she get so big? She doesn't remember her in the few times they've experimented this way being this rough for forceful or fat-balled. It hurt, but in a way that almost satisfied her, in an odd sense of pride she accepted it and how much stronger and more confident her girl must be getting if she was beginning to outgrow her.

Just imagining how big and throbbing it might be in her dry, clinching asshole and how much deeper it was going made her whole backside and hips burn happily, clearly the student fisher was outdoing the master, her eyes half open and sharp, panting as she took Historia's girth and felt it slowly roll in and out, a massive thick stream of precum loading into her rubbery sleeve and throbbing side to side on its own as she felt her girl pinch her balls and slide up her shaft in one hand and her tits being busy juggled in her other.

"See? You're such a good fishie, aren't you, all inviting, warm, slick, slippery. You're mine, my catch of the day, as I reel in our rods, aren't you, my dear herring Ymir?" Historia taunted, her mouth kissing the top of Ymir's spine below her cape mantle as she pushed her own, strong cock in and out, her precum slicking her shaft up down to her own smaller balls, feeling loaded up herself as she teased her girl, kissing her on every freckle she could find and resting, her mind slowly sedating and calming as she fucked her raw.

If anyone was watching, all they could hope is it was damn amusing that the smaller one had the big one, well, by the balls and bait so well. 

Ymir's balls and nipples begin to swell on her tackle shaped toys, unable to go any longer she let out a few small bubbling noises as a joke as she came, filling her sleeve to the brim with far more than she felt jerking it to Sasha's tits earlier, arching and flopping forward and back hard as she let her flailing ass and hips milk her girl into her, hoping to satisfy her with how big a catch she was. Many long, lengthy spurts as white as the river foam came out as she bit down on her own arm hard, spilling forth and feeling her balls go from clenched and redhot to a rubbery, sensitive emptiness, panting and drooling in an odd satisfaction as Historia reel her in, whole body flushed and covered in a thick, warm sweat.

Historia came in tow, knewing if she just prodded Ymir the right way, she'd help ride her in a way nobody or nothing else could, her big, strong, tan body pulling her in all the way and forcing her girl to cum with her, filling her speckled ass with her own salty spray, huffing and hearing her go from strong to pretending to be tough in an instant as they clamped down and felt her noble, pale cock come in her, squirming as hard as a rod would on a big catch and spraying forth in full, glad her ass could accept it, feeling her hands grip on her lured balls and tits in full enough to leave some visible bruising.

Just the way she liked it, though.

It took a while for them to unlock, just staying in each other in a hot, proud ecstasy, catching their breath and letting the sweat slowly cool off their flesh, only releasing and turning around in time for Ymir to tease poor Historia of how much redder she gets in her fair skin.

"You almost look sunburned, girl." Ymir grinned, slowly taking her cocksleeve off and tying it up to toss away properly, showing off the load she blew from Historia's filling her ass right, pulling her pants up. "Come on, don't you clean a fish after you reel it in? Clearly we need to get this stuff off us before we rejoin the others, unles you want us to smell like a fresh catch. Unless, of course, you like that herring smell."

Historia panted and grinned a bit, blushing more at the load Ymir was so proudly showing off, watching her own ropey white cum drip from her ass a bit, Ymir's balls an impressive sight even when deflated and drained like this.

"For once, you could do with the look. Come on, let's go show the others what I caught with you." Historia laughed as she kissed Ymir's cheek, encouraging them to pick up their supplies and go back to port and meet up with the others, no matter how sticky and hot their pants now were for the rest of the day.

"Next time though, you be the bait." Ymir grinned.

"I thought you didn't like herring?" Historia asked as they rejoined the group.

"It's okay if it's you. Besides, you've yet to rock me so hard you make me puke in the streets."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

The looks on their teammates faces as they rolled in to shore to come get them was akin only to the worst seasickness as they overheard them brag about each others' asses and lovingly compare their bits to worms and eels.

And if anyone asked, Ymir was the eel cocked one, the slippery bastard.


End file.
